Tis Titleless
by RevansRubber Duck Darth Nimble
Summary: They were more alike than they cared to admit, but what good was there in acknowledging they were both just as lost and alone as each other?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. It's a good thing, too. I wouldn't have the heart to kill half the characters to make the game so heart-wrenching OTL.**

**On another note, this is my first DA fanfic, so we'll see how it goes ;D**

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><p>"I understand not why I must accompany you, bard," Morrigan sighed out her dislike for being dragged along. Her and the bard, Leliana, were hardly on friendly terms. Or, rather, they were not in her books. Leliana seemed perfectly fine with assuming they were friends only for the reason they were forced to be in each other's company.<p>

The red-haired woman grinned teasingly over her shoulder, her bow blocking half of her face off, "I told you, did I not? The Maker Himself told me I should take you out today!"

Again, Morrigan let out an annoyed sound. She had lost count of how many times she had made that sound _today_. "You and I both know the existance of such a being is completely-"

"_True._ Or, as you would put it-"

"Completely _impossible._" Morrigan returned to reading her grimoire. Perhaps not the best of ideas, considering they were wandering the wilds, with any feral animal ready to attack at any second, but Morrigan was a _child _of the wilds, and no animal was going to scare her. It was truly the other way around.

Leliana gave a sigh, knowing her attempts were useless. She purposely stayed a few feet in front of Morrigan, hoping she would not be choked to death. It was useless, considering the witch could just as easily use a spell, something that with Leliana being in front was made much easier to use. But, the bard saw it as a way to show she trusted the Witch of the Wilds. Or at least, that was the reason she told herself.

"Call it what you will, but you can not deny that it is at the very least _plausible._"

"'Tis not a matter of if it is plausible or not. 'Tis a matter of existing, something which I can not believe."

"And why not?"

"Have you seen a Maker face to face? And not in your dreams, bard. Physically appear before you," Morrigan quickly added the last two bits, already knowing she would be getting the 'I saw the Maker in my dreams and He told me to help you all' speech.

"Well, no. No one but Andraste has, I think. Though there are a few tales-"

"Tales do nothing for reality, bard. You are flesh and blood, as am I, and I can clearly see you. 'Tis no tale, but a fact I can clearly trust in. Your Maker is but one tale among the many."

"And Andraste's Ashes? Were they not a tale as well?"

Morrigan scowled, closing her grimoire, "Why do you pester me with such questions? Do I question you on your every belief?" She was surprised to find the minstrel gone. This only deepened her scowl.

"We never really talk beyond bantering. I can not say you wouldn't," Leliana's voice came from high above, and with a quick scan Morrigan found her in a tree, grinning down at her, one leg swinging uselessly from side to side.

"I would rather we did not find that out, either."

"Well, I would rather we would. Why don't we talk?"

Morrigan halted in her tracks. Talk? About what? The latest Orlesian fashions? What shoes would compliment her little toe the best? Tales of long dead heroes? The Maker? There was nothing this woman could talk of that Morrigan would even remotely be interested in. Nothing at all.

"I believe your precious Warden is the one you wish to talk with, bard. I have no business with you." And with that, Morrigan started off again.

"Morrigan."

The witch nearly twitched at that. The name sounded so foreign coming from that woman's lips. So . . ._displeasing._ It did not sound right with that light Orlesian accent. It sounded like a name for one of the many courtesans, not that of a witch. It made her sound like she was not as powerful as she wanted to be, and Morrigan hated that even more than she hated the talks of the Maker.

Regardless, Morrigan was not without manners.

"What is it that you would want from me, bard?"

Leliana hopped down, ending up directly in front of Morrigan, to the witch's surprise. Not that she let it show, of course. But Leliana was trained in the art of reading people, and even if she was not about to press on the subject, she knew Morrigan was truly quite jumpy when it came to thinks popping out from shadows.

"I told you already, did I not? I wish to talk."

"And what, exactly, do you want to talk about?"

Here, Leliana gave a carefree laugh and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, "Well, that's yet to be figured out."

Morrigan gave her the look, "You have brought me out to the middle of the wilds to talk, and you know not what we are to talk of? Have all those tales finally rotted your head?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. I did have an idea, but I'm not certain you will want to go through with it."

Morrigan let out yet another sigh. A child of the wilds she may be, but even they get lost on their way home sometimes. And sometimes, they never made it back. Tales, perhaps, but these tales were the tales she went to bed with. The tales of the dead stealing the life from her as she slept, of the beasts tearing her flesh as she tried to run, of the never ending darkness swallowing her whole. It was those tales that made Morrigan stay with the bard and say her next words.

"Very well, bard. Let me hear this idea of yours, and I shall tell you if I wish to play or not."

The rogue gave a brilliant smile, one Morrigan did not doubt she learned from years of practice,and placed both her hands behind her head, tilting her head back on them, "It's a simple game. I use to play it a lot in Orlais. I ask a question, and you must answer truthfully no matter what the question is. I must do the same for you. Does that sound fair?"

Morrigan looked at her puzzled, "I do not understand. What is the point of such a game? What interest should you have in me, and I in you?"

"Well, I will have songs to write about this adventure. I should know about the feared Witch of the Wilds if I am to write of her, should I not?"

"'Tis unnecessary."

Leliana gave a small smile, one Morrigan was certain the bard did not train herself to show, "No. It's necessary. Would you like to know a secret? History is written by those who win, and us, the people who helped the hero, are long forgotten. But we live on in bard tales. Tales that tell everyone that we were not just born heroes. We hurt, we bled, we _died._"

"No one has died."

"No. Not yet. It's irresponsible to think no one will die, don't you think?"

Morrigan looked over the girl once more, studying her. What was the point of these questions? Why was she so intent upon making certain she was known to the world? The fables and dreadful tales already woven were more than enough for her. She was the embodiment of a child's nightmare. What more was there to be?

"Is that your question that I must answer truthfully?"

Leliana blinked, confused momentarily, but quickly changed that to a smile, "I suppose it must be."

"If you wish to change it, then do so."

"I do not."

"You are infuriating."

"You have yet to answer my question."

A frustrated noise this time, "Very well, then, bard. I find the idea of believing no one is going to die stupid. Everyone dies. No one of flesh and blood is immortal. The Warden has proved this in slaying my mother. 'Tis my turn to ask questions now, 'tis not? Why are you so intent upon learning of me? I am but a witch of the wilds, and one among the many I am certain."

Morrigan was not sure when, but somewhere along her explanation Leliana had taken residence beside her, keeping at the same pace. It startled Morrigan once more, hearing the bard's laugh so close tended to that.

"Well, I suppose it's because you are the only one I have not managed to get along with. Or, I have not made the effort to do so. I think you and I are alike, really."

"Alike, you and I? 'Twould seem you have suffered a blow to the head, and a serious one at that. You and I are nothing alike."

"Aren't we? We are both thrust into the Maker's plans to assist the Warden, are we not?"

"You were not there, and so you would not know. I did not join the Warden by choice, bard. Flemeth had forced me to join the Warden in his quest, and right before supper as well. I highly doubt Flemeth is the Maker, and so it was no Maker who thrust me into any of this. How long I stay with the Warden all depends on how long it will take for Allistair to convince everyone I am an evil witch who must be hunted down."

"I would not hunt you down."

Morrigan faltered slightly at that, unsure of what to make of that. She pushed down any thoughts that pointed in the direction that perhaps Leliana did care for her well being, or anything similar, as quickly as they had risen. There was no need to think like that.

"Wonderful. I will be sure to keep that in mind while the others are attempting to behead me," she replied dryly.

"Well, perhaps I will help you. You do not walk alone, you know."

Morrigan scoffed, "'Twould seem so. You are right beside me."

Leliana let out another charming laugh, the kind Morrigan could tell was perfected through practice. The kind Leliana would have used to charm her targets and win their hearts. The witch knew Leliana had an interest in women as much as she did in men; it showed with how the bard stared at _every_ decent looking person they passed when the Warden took them out. She would have hoped to the Maker that was not why Leliana had taken her out alone, but that would require praying to something that did not exist, and that would have been moronic.

"Well, that was not quite what I meant. What I meant to-"

"I know very well what you meant, bard. I am not a bumbling moron like Alistair."

"I meant to tell you even that bumbling moron, as you put it, would help you."

At this Morrigan whirled around, stepping in front of the bard, nearly knocking Leliana over in the process, "_Bard_" she put a sneer on the word, "do not for a moment believe that I would accept that false hope. The Templar hates me as much as I do him. There is nothing that would even suggest he would help me, and nothing that suggests I would accept his help. 'Tis something you should not put your faith in, lest you be blinded."

"Do you really believe that?"

"_Why_ must you question my _every_ answer?"

"Why must you refuse to answer my question?"

Morrigan scowled, "I have no reason to answer. 'Tis reason enough, I think."

"It was my turn to ask a question. You need to answer."

Morrigan let out an annoyed huff, spinning on her heel and walking down the forest once more. She hated she had been caught off guard like that, let alone the fact it was done by Leliana. At least it was not as bad as Alistair beating her.

Half of Morrigan wanted to change forms and run into the wilds, clear her mind of all the problems her human form had. Allow her to relax and let the weariness leave for a few hours. The other half, however, was enthralled by all of this. Some small part of her wanted at least one person she could lean on for help. For comfort.

But she was Morrigan, and that meant she could not afford such delicacies, no matter how much she wished for them, "Yes, I _do._"

Suddenly Leliana grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side, through trees and bushes, and other things Morrigan barely managed to dodge. The effort of keeping out of nature's way was more than enough to keep her occupied from asking what the bard thought she was doing, and to order the woman to unhand her.

Leliana grinned to herself, hopping over rocks and anything else in the way, pulling Morrigan along. She knew eventually they would hit the clearing she was aiming for, but that would not be for a little while longer, giving her just enough time to figure out how to make the witch not turn her into a toad. She had that unfortunate experience once. She had no desire to repeat it.

Somewhere along the lines, Leliana had decided it was okay to let go, and that Morrigan would continue to follow. Why wouldn't she? The witch had no idea where they were, where to go, nor what surrounded them. True she was more than capable of handling herself, but what would she do after? Wander the forests aimlessly? Highly doubtful.

Leliana jumped a few stones to cross a river, one where the fish were visible. She looked over her shoulder to make certain Morrigan did as well, and gave a smile when she did. She ran a few more metres, jumping from side to side up a little hill, and slid down a natural slide, bringing them to a half in front of a clear pond and grass. Something the darkspawn had not managed to ruin as of yet.

The thrill of everything took over, and Leliana gave a genuine laugh, the kind that surprised even Morrigan, and the witch eventually joined in, allowing herself a few chuckles once she had caught up. For a moment, they laughed together, allowing a comfortable silence to take them over.

Morrigan walked to the edge of the pond, sitting down and drawing her knees up to her chest, watching the fish make little ripples in the water, swimming aimlessly. Without purpose, without ambition. Something she found stupid. But, this was food, and food was not supposed to take notice of these things. It was only there to serve the purpose of being food, and it was something it could not even try to remedy.

Leliana joined her, sitting so their backs were together, barely touching. She looked at the trees, tall and proud, standing broadly. They did not care for purpose. They cared only that they be noticed, perhaps serve some kind purpose one day, but not until all was well and nothing could stand in the way of that purpose. But it was that kind of thinking that ended with them being cut down, only stumps of what they used to be remaining. Broken, rigged stumps.

"It's beautiful, no?" Leliana said quietly.

Perhaps it was the scenery so different from her forest, or perhaps it was because she was far too weary to care, but Morrigan could only agree, "'Tis," she replied just as quietly.

"It's funny, really. You just stop feeling lost when you find something of content."

"'Tis not funny. 'Tis how we work."

"Even you."

Morrigan scowled at that, ready to retort, but no retort came. The bard was correct. There was only a feeling of content, and Morrigan did not feel lost, nor all that alone. 'Twas an odd feeling, one she was not used to, but she could not say she disliked it.

She might have even ventured to say she liked it.

And there they sat, two lonely souls lost together, waiting for that purpose that would make them whole again. They were alike, but not for the reasons the bard had given. They were both alone in the world, but for completely different reasons, giving them different feelings of alone. Leliana yearned for the love she had lost, being a hopeless romantic. Morrigan yearned for a power she could hardly achieve on her own, and thus someone she could rely on, but she could not allow that.

"'Tis my turn to ask, I believe. The. . . feeling of being a bard, what is it like?" Morrigan broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leliana let out a little surprised sound at first, but let out a low, short laugh, "It was exciting. Terrifying, but exciting. The songs, the tales, they let your heart flow to somewhere where this feeling was. Every time I left a town, a country, I was terrified of what I'd see. Admittedly, I was afraid of meeting a Witch of the Wilds. I knew of them only what the stories said, and I was never certain if I would live to sing my new tale, to have this contentedness again."

"And what have you learned of us witches now?"

The rogue gave a smirk, allowing the witch an extra question, even if it was against the rules. Then again, Leliana was never very good at following rules, "I know not of all witches, only of one. She is just like us, though secluded I confess. Beautiful as any, however three times more deadly. Just one more lonely soul, only with tenfold the control." Leliana frowned, "You are very difficult to write without insulting."

"'Twas a valiant attempt."

The bard pushed her face into her knees in defeat, "I honestly can never tell when you are being sarcastic."

"'Tis the mystery of a Witch of the Wilds."

"'Tis not to my liking."

"'Tis not your place to use 'tis to mock me."

"'Tis not your place to tell me when I may or may not use 'tis."

"'Tis getting very annoying!"

Then Leliana laughed, throwing her head back in the process, coming into contact with the witch's shoulder. She felt Morrigan tense up behind her momentarily, but she soon relaxed and the bard took it as invitation to lay there.

"You are very much like that Warden. Always prodding me for useless information! I will leave you all eventually, what difference does it make if you know me or not?"

"Is it not our place to know our friends?"

"Friends? You are mistaken. I am no friend."

"You may not consider myself, or anyone, as such, but I know that the Warden and I do consider you so."

"And just how do you know what the Warden feels?"

"Now who is the one prodding for useless information?"

Morrigan laughed, "Would you rather I poked you relentlessly with a stick?"

"No. I've experienced that. Not very fun. At all."

Leliana heard her companion let out an amused scoff, and felt her tilt her head to the side in disapproval. Somehow, the bard had a feeling she was going to have to get used to that. Or at least learn to take it as a sign of affection.

"The wilds. What is it like living in them?"

"The wilds? 'Tis difficult to explain. I had no chances to properly interact with anyone besides Flemeth, and so it was . . ." she paused looking for the correct word, "individual. But there was my home, and there was my belonging. 'Tis true I felt apart of the wilds only as an animal as a child, but there is nothing new to that. All children have difficulties understanding how to belong."

Leliana could only give a far-off look at that.

It was not only children who had difficulties understanding how to belong.


	2. Chapter 2

**;o Second chapter!**

It didn't seem to matter how hard they tried to be apart, somehow they were always brought back together. Morrigan did not believe in fate, she believed in making her own. When the Warden picked who would accompany, Morrigan believed it was for tactical reasons that she and Leliana were always together. When patrols were chosen, it was only natural they worked together. Leliana would attack from afar while Morrigan would signal as she prowled around in one of her many forms. When Leliana was bored, and the Warden finally fell asleep after mostly everyone else had, it was Morrigan who was plagued with the tales of Orlais and their impractical shoes. What were the point of fancy shoes, anyways? Morrigan did not think a man would be looking at her shoes to judge her worth.

But it was always at night when Leliana overstepped her boundaries threefold. And somehow it was always Morrigan who was the only one awake during those times. Of course, this time, they were out patrolling in a thick forest, a few kilometres away from the main camp.

"What this rune mean?" Leliana's gloved fingers roughly handled the grimoire, the fake one, not Flemeth's true spellbook that they were to retrieve in the next few days, pointing at a little inked drawing. Morrigan only glanced at it, wincing at the lack of delicacy it was being handled with, knowing she wasn't getting her book back anytime soon.

"'Tis for the Fade."

"And this one?"

"Life force."

"And this?"

"It means any red-haired female bard who's name starts with an 'L' that touches one more page is going to burst into flames and turn to crisp on the spot."

"Turn to-?Haha! You're funny! I never took you for a comedian! You should do a show for the king of Orlais one day. He-"

"I do nothing for anyone, bard."

"Except yourself."

Morrigan looked annoyed now, "Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"There is plenty wrong with it! Don't you care for the people that get hurt on the way?"

Morrigan took the chance to steal back the grimoire, "Why should I? Have those people done anything for me? Have they risked anything at all for anything? Have they proven to me that I should concern myself with their life? Should they do so, why would I do such a thing?"

"Do they need to—look out!" The bard threw herself at the mage, knocking the woman to the ground in the process and taking the arrow. Leliana grimaced at the feeling, trying to roll off of Morrigan without causing too much pain to herself. She let out a frustrated growl when she figured out it had gotten quite deep. She did, however, manage to pull it out as she was getting up and notched it, aiming in the general direction of where it came from, and fired.

Morrigan had been dazed by the sudden blow, but was quick to her feet once the bard was off of her, spells ready in her hands. She made that disapproving laugh of hers along with an irritated flick of her head, firing lightening in the same spot Leliana had fired her arrow. She heard a satisfying squeal of death.

The two shared a quick nod, Leliana already notching an arrow and preparing to aim, while Morrigan changed into a wolf, hunting down her foes. The two had figured out some sort of communication based upon Morrigan's howls. Leliana followed them perfectly, howls of confirmation stating she had hit her targets, hitting targets she managed to spot on the way, plastering an arrogant smirk on her face. She could hear the screams as Morrigan mauled her foes to death. A gruesome tactic she did not approve of, but in the matter of life or death, there was not much choice.

Leliana side stepped an arrow, launching hers out in return. She saw Morrigan pounce upon her miss, wincing when she could hear the sound of flesh tearing. Sometimes, the witch was just a little too aggressive and into the spirit of things. The bard doubted she would ever be thinking that again. She quickly rearranged her thoughts to shooting once more. Even a fraction of a second of distraction could mean death.

Morrigan was having the time of her life, on the other hand. She was glad to finally be able to get into more comfortable skin, even if it was under unfavourable conditions. She was not quite certain as to why, but when taking any animal form, she felt a lot more free. She did not have a care in the world, nothing to hold her back. Nothing to limit her.

There were no morals in the animal world. There was no right or wrong. There was only survive, and that was precisely what she was planning on doing. Of course, she had a responsibility, something she did decide to have, just as animals were free to choose where their loyalties lay.

Admittedly, the taste of blood in her mouth was not something she fancied, and she knew she was going straight to the stream the second she could to wash it out. The feeling of flesh between teeth, too, was not something she particularly liked, but knew it was a necessity in doing her part. Not that she cared. Darkspawn were darkspawn, and they deserved to finally die if nothing else.

The witch sank her teeth into the last of her foes' neck, ripping the thing's throat out, letting a wild gush of blood spill everywhere before tackling it's chest and pulling organs out. Once she was certain that was the end, she trotted back to where she had left the bard, spitting on her way. She was prepared to be questioned on more rune meanings, but the site in front of her quickly changed her attitude completely.

"Bard!"

By the time Morrigan had basically thrown herself over to Leliana's tumbled form, she had already changed back into her human form and was on her knees, inspecting the girl to the fullest. She let out an annoyed huff when she decided it was nothing too serious.

"Oh! Morrigan! How're you doing?" Leliana gave a lazy smile.

"This is no time for games, Bard. Can you walk?" Where there was one darkspawn, there was bound to be patrolling darkspawn. Where there was patrolling darkspawn, there was bound to be an entire fleet coming. Perhaps that was exaggerating it a little too far, but hey needed to go warn the Warden nevertheless.

"Well, as much as I love laying on the nice, cold, hard ground, which I love dearly and really don't want disappearing under me (again), I wouldn't be down here if I could."

"Can you stand at least?"

"Of course. Help me up."

Morrigan let out a growl at being commanded, but did as instructed anyways. She felt Leliana buckle under her. The problem became apparent soon enough.

"You will not be capable of walking for quite some time, it appears. Twas the hamstring an arrow caught."

"I don't think I carry strings of ham in my leg," giving a teasing grin.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, wondering if it was just something everyone did not know, or if there was a female counterpart to Alistair's buffoon-ness, though keeping open to the idea that this might be yet another of the bard's horrible jokes, "A hamstring is what allows you to bend your knee and extend your leg, bard. 'Tis essential for walking. Luckily 'twas only a graze you received. Should we find a suitable spot to rest, I believe I can make a salve of sorts that will get you to an acceptable state until the mage can heal you."

"Do my ears deceive me? You sound almost, ah, _concerned?_"

Morrigan visibly froze at that, and cleared her throat, "It appears your ears deceive you. Perhaps twas not only your muscle that was injured."

"Were you hurt?"

"I. . . no. Nothing of consequence was sustained. Relax your leg."

Leliana did as instructed, allowing it to bend into a nerveless position while still being supported by the witch, though thoroughly surprised when Morrigan was suddenly under her, and she on her back. She made a few incoherent stutters of protest. Was Morrigan honestly giving her a piggy-back?

"Silence, bard," Morrigan put an edge on her voice, showing she was annoyed with the all the splutters of nonsense, "I believe I told you you will be incapable of walking for the time being. 'Tis moronic to allow you to walk. You would only damage yourself further."

"W-well, yes, but is it really necessary to carry me?"

"I could amputate your limb and allow you to hop and stumble like Allistair surely did as a child if that is more to your liking."

Leliana pulled herself closer, burying her chin into the crook of Morrigan's neck like some small child frightened over their parents wrath should they do something wrong, "N-no. I rather like my leg firmly attached to the rest of me."

Morrigan gave that displeased tilt of her head and scoff, whether it was because of Leliana's actions or because she would not be allowed to amputate anything was anyone's guess, though said nothing as to where the bard had taken residence. She only focused on navigating back to camp.

"The trees are lovely, aren't they?"

"'Tis the same as any other tree." Well, maybe not. There were those trees that tried to kill the Warden once. . . and that rhyming tree with an acorn complex. . .

"You smell nice."

"Oh? Did you expect me to smell of death and bat guano?" The witch held back back her surprise on the abrupt statement.

Leliana gave a laugh, quiet, mindful of how close she was to Morrigan's ear, "No, not exactly. But I really do need to know what soaps you use. There was never anything like this in Orlais. Is it your own creation? You should sell it. You could make thousands and thousands off of it."

So much for a peaceful walk.

"Tis my own brew, yes. 'Tis called the wilds. Should you live in them long enough and play with the little herbs you see sprouting here and there, you acquire their scent."

"It's nice. It doesn't smell of wet dog like the rest of Ferelden."

"I will be certain to tell the Warden that. Certainly wet dog is a compliment Orlais."

The bard caught the witches playful smirk, hoping that only meant she was teasing her. She had promised the Warden never to call Ferelden, nor her citizens, anything remotely relating to wet dog ever again after the encounter with Marjolaine. Morrigan had been there, too, oddly enough. She herself had seemed almost happy the professional bard was dead.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Oh? Actually bothering to ask for permission this time? Very well. What is it you need?"

"Back before . . . before I killed Marjolaine, when the Warden and I were preparing to leave, you offered your services. I did not think anything of it then, it was natural you came along, with how you stare at the Warden, but now I see it does not make very much sense at all."

"What is there to not understand? You were to kill your mentor—the very being who taught you everything you knew. She could have held out and used a trick she had not taught you. The Warden was needed to help you in case she showed her true prowess, and I to keep her servants at bay. Twould seem I was unneeded however. You are quite exceptional with melee combat as well."

"I. . . thank you. That doesn't excuse the fact you came after . . . after you. . ."

"After I what, bard? Witch I may be, but a mind reader I am not."

"N-nothing. There was also the time you _forced_ your help upon me to help free the Wardens from their cell." Leliana had wanted to say 'after you had been rejected by the Waden' but that would have caused so many problems...and it wasn't particularly anything Leliana was proud of.

"You were foolish to believe you could defeat an entire garrison on your own. 'Tis not an easy task, even for a bard."

"You could have." Leliana heard the growl in Morrigan's chest. The kind that said she had stepped into something she really shouldn't have. Maker, she hoped the woman wouldn't just abandon her by a tree...

"I would not. I am not Flemeth," the witch finally replied after a few moments, "I know not all the tricks of my trade."

The bard let out a soft gasp, smiling slightly, even as she felt Morrigan's hate for admitting such things. For trusting anyone. Leliana risked bending her knee more than she was supposed to—and to a painful inconvenience on her part—to give the woman as much of a hug as she could. It was difficult, both because of Morrigan's clothing (she had already been accused more than once of disrobing the witch with her eyes—which _honestly_ was not true) and because it was just generally impossible to hug properly in the midst of a piggy-back, but the effects had the same nevertheless. Morrigan let out her surprised gasp, and then scowled.

"Fool. 'Tis not sensible to do such things with a wound such as yours! It could worsen your condition!"

Leliana let out another laugh, "I appreciate your concern, sera witch, but you should understand I'm neither very sensible nor very intolerant to a little extra pain."

"Yet still you can not walk."

Another silence followed at that, this time a comfortable silence. The kind they both enjoyed. Leliana nestled her forehead into Morrigan's neck, smiling sadly into it. Morrigan only tilted her head slightly, in the opposite direction, understanding, though grudgingly.

This was another (stupid) moment, like back by that clearing Leliana had found and showed her weeks ago. They had not spoken much after that, though their general actions toward each other had become much more friendly. Morrigan understood none of it. It was impractical. Preposterous. All of it was, yet she found herself enjoying it more and more, and the end was drawing closer and closer. She hated it, and she did not understand why.

She did not need these people—friends, as the bard put it. She could survive on her own. She always had, but now, she found herself yearning for that friendship. Wanting it more than she had even wanted that golden mirror in her childhood, and it scared her. Was her mother going to brutally crush them as well? Send their broken pieces back into her face?

Send the bard, who touched even the coldest of hearts with her songs, who understood her like no other she had met besides perhaps the Warden, back to her with a ripped throat and bloody heart? Morrigan found she was caring much more than she should about everyone, even to the point of carrying one of them on her back all the way to camp.

And now, the bard had given her even more understanding. Leliana had managed to confront her old master, her mentor, her lover, whatever else they had been, and win. Leliana had the strength, the ability to do so. Morrigan had power, she would not lie, it was in her veins after all, but would it be enough to destroy Flemeth? She was a legend, and legends did not become legends without good reason.

Was she perhaps sending the Warden and her companions to her death by her request to enter Flemeth's hut and take the book? She did not know. She only knew that just like Morjalaine, Flemeth had taught all her tricks, and anything was possible. Anything could happen.

Everyone could die.

And Morrigan knew it.

But, Morrigan was willing to place that chance. She was willing to put her comrades in danger. Why? She was not certain if it was because she had faith in their abilities or if she truly did not care as much as she thought she did, or something else, but she knew she was willing to make everyone pay for her own sake.

The ends justify the means. That was what she wanted to believe. That was what she _did_ believe. But . . . was it right? Was the bard correct, like all those other times? Should she care more? Should she consider other's lives, do what she could for them?

It was very much against what she had been raised to believe.

But then, it was just as different for Leliana as well. The bard's life, how had that been? Terrifying, she had said. Exciting, she had said.

Terrifying and exciting. Exactly what Morrigan felt on the subject of Flemeth. On one hand, she would have everything she dreamed of, on the other, lose everything.

But there was that bard saying it was okay.

"Bard?"

"Hm?"

"Do you perhaps think that all ends justify the means?"

"I did. Every assignment I was given, I believed that. Every second up until that moment of betrayal. They may in some cases. One can never be sure. It's a secret, no?"

"Secrets. How positively inconvenient."

A fifty-fifty chance that Morrigan would have to take.

**I realize they were both out of character slightly at some parts, but it's difficult writing things like this with Morrigan. She's so hard to find excuses to open up .-.  
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**Anyways. I hope you enjoyed. I am planning on a third chapter, and that will be the end. Probably.**


	3. Chapter 3

Leliana glared at the flames cackling in front of her, like it was some how their fault all of this happened. She knew it really wasn't, and she was just using it as an excuse so she wouldn't go off beheading anything that moved, but that did not save the flames from her wrath. She wasn't really all that angry, either, but the longer she told herself she was, the longer she would not have to go to Morrigan and apologize.

Of course, Morrigan was off in her little section of the camp. Sneezing.

Every time Leliana heard the adorable little sound, she couldn't help but grin, but it soon turned back into a glare. She could not let the flames think they were safe. Her iron poker was sure to make certain of that.

Where had this all gone wrong, anyways? Or... had it?

Sighing, Leliana let herself think back. From the beginning.

"_What do you mean I can not accompany you! You are going to face _Flemeth!_ The woman of legen-"Leliana flared, frantic hand movements and expressions running all over, only to be cut off. _

"_I told you. Morrigan is ill and you are the only one besides myself she seems to tolerate." the Warden retorted, sighing._

"_You could use me!"_

"_So could Morrigan."_

"_I'm certain she will forgive me if it is to launch an arrow through her mother's heart."_

_The Warden looking away, both from shock of how out of character that had sounded and from disbelief, hand slapping to face before turning to look at the bard, "Leliana, three months ago, you would have been appalled at the thought of killing anyone in cold blood. You still yell at me half time. I know you want to do one thing for Morrigan, one thing she'll really approve of, but I need you here. With her."_

"_I. . . I understand what you are meaning to say, but . . ." how was she supposed to put this? Morrigan was even more anti-social than usual. Even the Warden was having difficulties talking with her, so what chance did she have?_

"_Try? For me?"_

Leliana still wondered what demon had possessed her to say yes. She glanced over at Morrigan, who snuggled closer to her blankets. She decided she was still fine for now. Maybe in a few seconds she'd try to talk to her again, but for now, the poor flames would have to do.

"_The Warden _ what? !_" Morrigan's voice cracked, her lungs going into a coughing fit before she regained her breath, "Why would such a thing even be thought of? I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I need no one to look after me like a small child."_

"_Yes, well, do not think I am very thrilled of the idea, either. I would rather be with the Warden, making certain Flemeth falls."_

_Morrigan laughed, then stopped abruptly, hand unconsciously going to her throat, in pain. That did not make her response any slower, however, "Displeased with my presence? I shall remember that. Whether you are there or not, however, will not make Flemeth fall. I have no doubt she may have other ways of preserving her life. This is only her most . . . prominent form."_

_Leliana, realizing what her statement must have sounded like, ignored the entire second half of Morrigan's speech, flushing, "N-no, that is now what I meant. I meant . . . I enjoy your presence, truly. I. . ."_

"_Oh, be quiet, bard. I can not stand your groveling. Perhaps thinking before you speak will help you."_

Oh, how much she wanted to punch her for that . . . still did. But . . .

_Before Leliana could even raise her fist, Morrigan sneezed. A cute little sound, by every way possible. It was cute enough to make Leliana stop completely and giggle at it. _

"_Is that your sneeze? It sounds absolutely adorable!"_

"_No, bard, tis my laugh. What else would it be?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, walking back to her fire and enveloping herself in blankets and anything else warm that she had. Ugh. _

_After a few moments of silence, Leliana found her voice, "Do you need anything?"_

"_I do not need you coddling me."_

"_That matters little." Leliana sighed, sitting beside Morrigan, not knowing what to discuss. Mothers were a bad idea, considering the circumstances. They had covered nearly every other topic. . . except. . . oh, but Leliana did not dare tread there, did she? Well. . . it definitely was not out of her norm, but somehow it did not seem all too . . . _ideal.

"_I see. So my wants are belittled. I shall remember this as well."_

"_That is not what I meant, and you know this. It is not that your wants are belittled, but that they allow your pride to speak for you." Oh dear Maker, what did she just get herself into?_

"_My pride? Bard, I suggest you hold your tongue particularly still, lest I remove it for you. A challenge for you, indeed. I only want what is necessary. Tis not pride that is a matter in these things." _

_Another little sneeze made it's way out, along with a giggle. Morrigan wanted to glare, but there was no use in it. It was absolutely horrifying. Leliana's anger left immediately after every time she sneezed, and that only made the red-head stay longer. _

_Morrigan hated people around her when she was so weak. It was why she had insisted on the entire party leaving to slay Flemeth, despite the fact she had no doubt the Warden would have been able to handle the situation regardless of if anyone tagged along or not. But, no. The Warden left their only bard with him. Who would sing for the Warden now?_

"_Well, perhaps, we could discuss something else, then. Perhaps still with your wants, but nothing that will relate to us directly, no?" Leliana gave a mischievous giggle at that, something that made Morrigan even a little frightened. Well, perhaps not frightened, but deeply concerned._

"_In case you have not noticed from my obvious voice cracks, I do happen to have a sore throat to which does not allow extended conversations." Oh. She sounded annoyed._

"_Well, you could only listen. I have some tales about pudding that you would never believe. There are so many things you can do with pudding, and most of the time it's mixed with-"_

"_You can stop right there. I happen to have a great dislike for pudding."_

"_Perhaps a song?"_

"_Perhaps a red-haired girl leaving?"_

Looking back, Leliana was starting to understand slightly what Morrigan was getting at. Not her leaving, she caught that part fairly well, but rather the ulterior motive for Morrigan wanting her gone so badly was starting to reveal itself.

The flames definitely seemed to like the less intense glare. Before it turned into a thoughtful one.

_Leliana had left, as Morrigan had requested, however the second she saw the mage shivering, she immediately rushed back up to the secluded section of the camp, but not before grabbing one of the thick fur blankets from her tent. She did not even give Morrigan a chance to refuse—not that the apostate had heard, much less noticed her arrival—she enveloped the girl in a hug from behind, along with the blanket._

_Morrigan, of course, struggled, "What do you think you are doing, bard! ? Remove yourself from me this instant!" even if the words had been meant to sound loud and demanding, they sounded hoarse and forced now._

_The bard let out a little giggle, "You are cold. In Orlais, you would often find people together without clothing under the richest of blankets to reserve heat. I understand that this is not Orlais, and such acts are not tolerated here, though if you insist upon this behaviour I may have to resort to such tactics, no?"_

_Morrigan did not even have the strength to argue about it. She growled, though, despite the raw feeling it gave her throat. _

"_Are you afraid of contact, Morrigan?"_

_Ugh. It still sounded like a concubine's name coming from her lips, "Twould be unseemly if that were the case. I would wonder how the men I have laid with are still alive if it were so." Her voice still had an edge to it, razor sharp in fact. Leliana did not doubt that if it were an actual blade, she would be minced to the point where nobody would recognize her._

_ "Oh! You have laid with men? Do you perhaps lay with women as well?" It was an innocent question, honestly. It was just that her curiosity had been aroused. Morrigan had not taken it so lightly, however._

_ "Tis unseemly, bard. Your seduction tactics seem to of have fallen prey to rustiness. Perhaps you should go to our Warden and practice while singing songs?"_

_ Leliana physically felt Morrigan scrunch of closer to herself, probably feeling uncomfortable. She mentally winced, "That is not what I was . . . I only meant it as a question. There was no hidden motive or agenda for it."_

Honestly, why did the entire camp believe any time she made any kind of remotely sexual comment, it meant she wanted to bed them? Sure, her job had basically been an assassin seductress, but that did not mean that carried over to her spare time as well.

Well, that was not strictly true. It managed to find it's way into her personal affairs a few . . . thousand . . . times. Ack, no! No! It was completely platonic . . . sort of . . . for all of these people! Zevran was just . . . a crush, the Warden was simply a dear friend, Morrigan was . . . complicated, Wynn was far too old, Sten was adorable (even if he denied it, she knew he was truly just a big softie), Allistair had an adorable awkwardness to him, Shayle was like a little. . . big? . . . sister, the Mabari was, well, cute, and . . . Oghren was . . . Oghren. Enough said.

Oh, sure, they were all fairly good looking, some even great looking, but that did not mean she wanted to jump them at any given second. She may be Orlesian, but she had . . . _guidelines_. Not that she wouldn't mind breaking them once in awhile, but. . . . ugh, where was this going again?

Oh, right. Physical attraction did not mean wanting to bed. Mostly. Besides, Zevran was far worse than she was . . . sort of. At least she was more modest about it!

_"Lay a hand on me, bard, and I promise you I will cut it off and feed it to the Mabari."_

_ "Are we really to go over this again? I do not wish to touch you in any way! Besides, the Mabari left with the Warden."_

_ "If it was not for the fact that I have seen your cunning personally, I would think you are just as idiotic as Allistair."_

_ "Hey!"_

_ Despite Morrigan being an absolute wreck, she insisted she go hunting for herbs. Leliana, being to good protector she was, followed, naturally. What else was she to do, anyways? It's not like there was anyone to talk with at the camp. Then again, leaving it all alone was probably not the best of choices, either._

_ Morrigan sneezed, and it took all the willpower Leliana had to not laugh. The witch was still covered head to toe in blankets, and from the back it honestly just looked like a walking carpet with hiccups. _

_ How did they even get on the topic of touching Morrigan anyways? Weren't they speaking about how much longer Morrigan was going to take with finding her special herbs that apparently could not be bought from Sandal's father? Come to think of it, they probably could have sent Sandal to pick all __these herbs for them. _

_ Why did Morrigan even want herbs now anyways? It's not like she could make anything for the common cold._

_ Really, Leliana was amazed she herself was not ill. She had gone into that fight with about the same amount of clothes Morrigan did. Hm. _

_ "Twould seem this is sufficient for today," Morrigan announced as she picked up the last of her herbs._

_ Several extensive thanks to the Maker went through Leliana's mind at that._

Nothing overly important had happened during the time back. The only thing that came after was . . . well, the part that Leliana did not want to think about.

_It was night, and Leliana was once again raiding Morrigan's belongings and attempting to read the spellbook. The only rune she really remembered was the one Morrigan said meant " __any red-haired female bard who's name starts with an 'L' that touches one more page is going to burst into flames and turn to crisp on the spot"_

_ Well, it hadn't happened yet. Maybe the book liked her?_

_ "Morrigan?" she knew she wouldn't get an answer until a proper question. So she did just that, "Why do you never refer to me by name?"_

_ "Why would I do such a thing? Tis not my place to call anyone by name if I do not need them."_

_ Ouch._

_ "You always call me bard, why not Leliana?"_

_ "Bard suits you just fine, I think."_

_ "But, I am no longer a bard. Not truly."_

_ "Very well then. Scoundrel."_

_ "I am not a scoundrel!"_

_ "Rogue, scoundrel, bard, minstrel, they all mean the same thing. Why would you deny this?"_

_ "Because they are not my _name_! Could you not just call me by my name just once?" she got no reply in response. Then, Leliana grinned, having an idea. Oh, she was definitely going to be shot by the end of the day but there was a good chance it would be worth it._

_ "If you do not say my name just once, I will kiss you," she added a mischievous smirk just for the extra effect._

_ "You would not." Oh. A defiant tone. _

_ "I would. I promise I will kiss you if your next sentence is not my name."_

_ "Bard-"_

"Lel-i-an-a,"_ she stressed each syllable._

_ "If you even try-!" Morrigan was cut off by Leliana doing exactly as she promised she would. Apparently, personal space did not exist to the red-head. Consideration, however, did. At least she had the decency to kiss the witch on the cheek rather than on the mouth._

_ She pulled away giggling, "In Orlais, it is said to help heal people too if you kiss them. Perhaps I even ended up helping you!"_

_ "Leliana." Morrigan's tone had gone dangerously low, even with the cold hindering her. Oh. _Oh._ This would probably be where Leliana ran for her life but . . . ._

_ "You said my name!"_

_ "It will be the absolute last thing you will ever hear should you not leave this very instant. I care not if the rest of this camp comes back to find a dead bard and a missing witch."_

Well, the rest of it was a haze. There was a sudden burst of flame from the fire, and lots of yelling. Somehow it ended with Morrigan burning half of Leliana's arm, and telling her to wag her tail over to the other fire like the whipped dog she was. Well . . . there was not much the bard could have done, no matter how much hate and anger had risen at that comment. She needed to run her arm through some water, and fast.

So she did just that, and watched as the skin hardened into burnt flesh. It wasn't overly burnt, just enough to burn through the first couple layers of skin. It was nothing serious, not really. She knew eventually it would crack and blister and all that fun stuff, and it would be incredibly difficult to hide all of that from everyone else, but she would manage. Drawing her bow would be a considerable amount harder, though. Maybe she could feign sick for awhile . . .

"Leliana."

She literally jumped at the sound of her name, cursing at the fact it also caused her to move her arm, and crack part of it open into bleeding. She cursed.

"M-Morrigan! ?" she exclaimed once she realized who had said her name. She couldn't hide the surprise from her voice, no matter how much she wanted to.

"I find myself in need of apologizing to you. Twas irrational of me to cause such harm to you for a meagre kiss, which I see you meant only as a jest. I find it suitable that you do something of equal measures, should you so please." Morrigan had spent the last few minutes, after she calmed down that is, looking over the herbs she had, and trying to figure out what herbs grew around the parts. None were suitable for burn salves or healing properties.

If she could not at least ease the pain or something to the sorts, then she could give Leliana the chance to give the same treatment. But. . .

"You . . . wish me to harm you? I do not understand. I do not harm my friends; I am not certain what you are asking of me." Leliana's brows furrowed in confusion, something most of the camp had picked up meant 'I really don't get what you're trying to say. Explain?'

Morrigan held back her sound of irritation, "I mean you are within your rights to return the favour that I have given you. Why do you hold back? You are capable of using daggers, and I believe they require only one hand for use. Your injury is no reason to hold back. What is it that you are waiting for?"

Leliana blinked a few times, her eyes going down to the dagger at her side, more for time than her actually contemplating it, "I do not wish harm upon you. To do such a thing would . . ."

"Would be the same as your previous role as bard, without the seduction to lead to it."

Leliana opened her mouth a few times, trying to find the words to retaliate, (yeah, some bard _she_ was . . .) but there was nothing that came to mind. It was true. If the mission called for it, she killed the man, or woman, she had slept with just hours earlier. In the end, all she could reply with was, "I will not harm you."

"Very well. Should you-" a sneeze cut Morrigan off, followed by a giggle. The witch went to speak again, but another sneeze cut her off. This reoccurred several times, each time forcing the scowl on Morrigan's face to grow, and Leliana's smile to widen.

Even as she tried to scowl, Morrigan could not help but give a grin. If Leliana were not busy smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, she surely would have something along the lines of 'you know, this probably the Maker just trying to tell you words are unneeded." to which Morrigan would have promptly replied with, "tis not a Maker that tells me to sneeze. Tis my body's will."

Morrigan would never understand it. Why a Chantry girl would bother with an apostate. They were far too different to ever become close, to not be rivals, but somehow the bard had a way of easing her. Nothing like a lover, or a sister, or even a friend. It was simply . . . easing. Yet even through all of that, the sheer hate for everything she stood for was ever present. There was no way to explain it.

It was odd relationship they had, yes. They could not be more different in their beliefs, let alone their morals, but in the end they were more alike than they cared to admit. Leliana did not care if Morrigan burned her twelve times over so long as this ending was the one she received every time. It was here, at the end of the day when they were alone, where they put aside morals, beliefs, attachments, and focused on the now. On the little insignificant things that made up the significant.

That made up their relationship.

**So, this really was not how I wanted it to end at all, but I didn't really remember much on what happened both in previous chapters and the game xD**

**I did, however, briefly skim over the last two chapters, and realize there is an inconsistency in the timeline. We'll just pretend it does not exist. :)**

**But, thank you all for reading this :) Reviews are very much welcome (And those of you who have/will review(ed), you are my absolute most favourite people in the entire world) as they provide the best forms of constructive critisms :)**

**Ignore the fact that 80% of the time Leliana and Morrigan were out of character. They were probably just a little high from herb picking :P**


	4. Chapter 4: It's the RUUURUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

**Well, I lied. :)**

**I really hated the last chapter. I hated it so much I decided to make this one to make up for it, and I read through my last chapters very carefully to remember what was going on. **

**Probably won't measure up to the standards, but it'll at least be a little better than the last one. OTL / Orz**

Rules were simple things. Guidelines, if one would. Guidelines that seemed to not exist for the oh so merry group pulled together by the Warden. In fact, the rules did apply so much that Morrigan was forced to hunt down that bloody bard again. It really didn't matter how many times Leliana stole that grimoire; she was never going to understand the runes.

Morrigan knew no other words besides 'annoyed' and 'great dislike' when describing their relationship. Everything about the bard peeved the witch. Those practised smiles, the subtle seduction tactics, the songs (dear Maker, some of those songs were not meant for children's ears...), her religious fanaticism, her accent at times, and especially the way she just _believed_ everything.

The witch knew the bard was not above making her own conclusions. Despite all the feelings, Morrigan knew Leliana was exceptionally intelligent. She knew Leliana could figure out almost any puzzle given the time, create an entire profile of a person within a few moments, maybe, if she tried hard enough, even figure out a few sentences in the witch's grimoire. Thus, it baffled Morrigan as to why the redhead could not understand that the Maker was not real. That believing without proof was as good as creating tales of those extinct gryphons.

But, that was a bard's job was it not? Create ludicrous tales that awed children and entangled the elder? Create songs that could make even the coldest of hearts begin to weep? Maybe the reason for all of Leliana's actions was because she did not know anything else. Obviously, her old mentor had taken her in at a young age. Sixteen, seventeen perhaps. Maybe even younger.

Adolescence was a curious time, really. That is the time when a being finally begins to try and make sense of the world, to understand it. Ironically, it is also the time when everything seems to fall apart. What a better time for Marjolaine to shape a perfect little tool? Leliana would have just been leaving her childhood behind, trying to find a place in the world. She clearly enjoyed games and adventure: the life of a bard would have seemed incredibly brilliant at the time. It probably still did, really.

Morrigan had experienced the same sort of scenario, if a little earlier. Flemeth had made certain that Morrigan was prepared to face a cold, heartless world. Made certain that she would reach higher and higher until she found herself at the top. Her childhood had been a starting point. Her adolescence had been the mid-point, where she finally understood her mother's seemingly cruel actions as preparation. And her adulthood, well, she had yet to see where it would take her.

"I am honestly always baffled as to how you find me so quickly every single time! It's almost as though you are _attracted_ to me."

Oh. Looks like she found the bloody bard earlier than she had expected. Morrigan just glared down at Leliana, wondering how in the world she was comfortable squished between two boulders—or even how she managed to half-sit half-lean between them comfortably.

"I want it back. Now, bard."

"We never did finish playing our game, you know. I think it's my turn to ask a question, isn't it?" Leliana had not looked up from the grimoire even once through the entire exchange. She seemed to be reading it as easily as if it were written in Common. If she was reading it at all, that is.

"I do not have time for games, bard! Not now."

"You never did have time for games, did you?"

Morrigan scoffed, "I had plenty of time for games."

"But not real games. I overheard your conversation with the Warden. Tricking men into thinking you were helpless? That's awfully Orlesian, and the games in Orlais are... different."

"If you are trying to insinuate that I am Orlesian..." Usually, Morrigan did not care for ethnicity, but there was something very wrong about being called Orlesian considering her character.

Leliana shook her head slightly, eyes still reading—scanning?-the contents, "No. You're not, ah, well...you're just not Orlesian. You play Orlesian games, but that really doesn't account for anything. Did you know I use to play in the Game? Well, I suppose you wouldn't know what the Game is. It's awfully messy, and I found myself switching sides so often that in the end I was confused as to who I was supposed to be working for."

"Then you are a traitor. Give back the grimoire, now."

"No. That was the point of the Game." She gave a laugh, "Well, sort of. I was supposed to confuse my employer, but in the end I just got mixed up and turned around myself."

"Ugh. Why will you not just leave me alone? I do not steal your things like a petty thief, now do I?"

"It's not as though you could," Leliana sounded surprised by the thought, but it soon turned to amusement, "That is, you lack the stealthy part."

Morrigan gave a huff, not wanting any more part of this. She took the fastest route out of her predicament, "Fine. Tis a game you want to play, then a game we shall play. Ask your question."

Leliana made a sound of something between surprise and disinterest. She probably hadn't been expecting the Witch to give in so soon.

"Don't you ever find yourself wishing for a different life? A simpler one, maybe? One without the pressure of everyone depending on you?"

"Don't be silly, bard. None of you are dependant on me, as it should be. Perhaps support is needed on occasion, but it is the Warden we are all dependant on, not me. To answer your question however, no, I feel no need to have a different life."

"No?"

"No. Tis neither here nor there. This is my life, regardless of what was thrown at me to bring me here. I would not change a single thing. I know what I must do, and that is enough."

"Your turn."

They had both come to realize they had been cheating each other in their game. One would ask more questions than agreed, or give insufficient answers. In the end, they had come to a mutual agreement that they would simply continue to ask until they were satisfied with the answer.

"Your Orlesian Game. Explain it to me."

Leliana frowned slightly, coming back to memories she really would have rather left alone, but it was Morrigan's question and thus demanded an answer. She sighed, "It's very complicated. As a bard, I was to be a master at the Game—make it turn as I wanted it to, but I was neither born into a noble family nor was I apart of the Chantry at the time. The Game is designed to keep all the nobles occupied, or at least amused. You would like it, I think. You were supposed to discreetly take down your opponents to gain what you wanted. For the most part, it was the bards who did all the. . . dirty work, shall we say."

"I would not send a seductress to my enemy. That is more of a gift than anything."

Leliana laughed, "We do not only seduce, Morrigan. Is that really the picture you have of bards here in Ferelden? We did a lot more. We spied, for the most part. Learned what lord was doing what—or who, usually." she frowned at that, "Yes, most definitely who that what. Orlesian men really do have a thing for secret mistresses. Oh, and of course our main purpose: singing."

"And when you were doing neither of those, you were killing."

"Well, there was some time put aside for more . . . personal agendas."

"The point of your game was pointless. The nobles are all weak fools that send children to do what they can not."

"I was not a child when I became a bard. Most bards are quite a bit older than the picture that is painted of them. In fact, some bards are even old ladies."

Morrigan glared at the ground, not certain if she truly wanted to ask her next question.

"You once told me it is horrible to be selfish. Tell me, bard, how many men did you sleep with to get what you wanted? How many women's hearts did you break when they learned you were only interested in what they had to offer? Why are you exempted from that rule?"

Leliana visibly flinched at that. She had never been good at following rules, but that was definitely no excuse. She was not proud of her actions. She was never proud of the action, but always felt a sense of pride at the accomplishment. It was the accomplishment she revelled in—not anything that built up to it.

But, a rule was still a rule.

"I am not. My past actions have been . . ." Been what? They were exactly what she had wanted them to be. They had been what had gotten her so far in the Game. They had been what got her to the top, to the final acts of game play. They had been exactly what she had been raised to be correct. What she had been raised to believe was the only way.

Ah, now she understood. Morrigan was in exactly the same boat. Ha. How foolish of her to judge Morrigan, now that she saw why Morrigan was, well, Morrigan.

"I have no excuse."

Leliana waited for the snark reply, the goading insult, anything, but nothing came. A brief glance showed Morrigan was contemplating something. Her eyes always danced when she was trying to figure or calculate something, Leliana had noticed. Morrigan almost seemed excited when a new problem arose, but the redhead had soon realized it was annoyance at having yet another obstacle thrown at her. Apparently, she had given an answer Morrigan had not been expecting.

"You are a hypocritical fool, then."

_Yes._

"I am what I am, just as you are who you are."

_But that doesn't mean I agree with it._

"Your turn."

"Do you hate me for this?" she asked quietly. Maybe once she had been afraid of the answer. Afraid to be ignored by anyone, but now, Leliana did not care. Or rather, she understood not everyone could pay attention to her—not so long as she was out of the Game. She idly wondered if she playing the Game or just _a_ game.

"I will always find you distasteful, bard, even if I find you more tolerable."

"Yet you do not hate me."

"No." Hate was such a trivial thing. Morrigan was apart of something much greater than this game, and she could not bother to concern herself with such trivial things. Hating someone, anything, would only result in her spending precious time on something that would gain her nothing.

"Then perhaps I should tell you I do not hate you, either."

"I do not care whether or not you love me or hate me. It is irrelevant."

Leliana laughed, "I do not believe that,not even for a moment. I believe that if you thought I loved you, you would have a spell ready at any given second to make me, oh how did you put it? "burst into flames and turn to crisp on the spot" I believe." she giggled at the notion, "You truly do not fancy women, no?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. How typically Orlesian.

"You know, Morrigan, we are not all that different, are we?"

"We are as different as they come, bard. You are a zealous Chantry pet, and-"

"No, no, no! I did not mean at this present moment, I meant as a whole. We have both been victims of circumstance, no? I do not mean to insinuate any form of sympathy, no that is not my intention, but I find it funny how we are so very different yet so very much the same."

Morrigan scowled. Maybe they were the same. They both at some point in their life desired only what was best for them, though Leliana had long grown out of that, and Morrigan was beginning to understand her sacrifice would be for all of Thedas, and not just herself. They had both felt lost and alone, Morrigan as a child, and Leliana as an ex-bard that longed for adventure. They had both wondered what they would be like had they had different lives, but they seemed to of have come to the same conclusion.

They would be exactly where they were now.

No, it did not matter where they had started. Morrigan was born to command magic, and Leliana was born to live life on the edge. Morrigan dreamed for a time when she would be above everyone, for when she would be the one to command magic as though it was nothing more than a little toy. For when she controlled her time and space, controlled anything she saw fit to control.

Leliana had had that. She used to be at the top of the Game. Used to be the mastermind behind the game, able to move the pieces anywhere she wanted. She controlled when anyone would know anything, when someone would die. She controlled everything that needed controlling in the Orlesian Empire. And she had given it up completely when it had been whipped back in her face. She wondered if Morrigan would ever have that problem.

Leliana was the small child torn between choosing which parent she wanted to stay with. She wanted both mother and father, she wanted a life filled with excitement, a life where she could be one with the Game once more, but at the same time, she wished for just a nice quiet life where she could raise a family. Where she did not have to worry and look behind her for knives only to learn they will come from the front. She was torn, and both parents were begging for her to choose them.

Morrigan had no such conflicts. She was certain of where she wished to be. She was certain of what her destiny was. She did not care who came at her, what came at her, she would throw them down without a second thought. She born to command, and so she would. She cared not for what happened to those thrown down; if they were capable they would pick themselves up and do as they were destined to do.

They were like parallel versions of one heart. One was going forward, the other backwards, and they never would meet, but they were the same. What Leliana had lived, Morrigan was living now, and vise versa. They were playing their own Game, and it was one Leliana did not want to be at the top of. Morrigan was intent upon owning this Game.

Then she scoffed, "It matters not. Give the Grimoire and we are finished."

Leliana gave a sheepish grin, "I don't have it, actually. I hid it in your tent."

Morrigan hastily grabbed the book away from Leliana, finding that the outside was just a well painted and well made leather slip on cover made to look like her grimoire. Bloody bard, tricking her like that. Unintentionally, she read the most recent line, and her scowl turned into slight shock before she scoffed and tossed the book back at Leliana, who seemed amused by the turn of events as Morrigan walked away with air of absolute command.

"Never do that again, bard."

Leliana only gave a smirk, the kind Morrigan guessed was given when she found her next target, "Does that mean I'm allowed to steal it?"

Morrigan gave no answer. Leliana made up her own.

_Morrigan is just as lost in this game as all of us, but she is one of the few who do not care for the outcome, only that she understands it._

And Leliana found she was following those very tracks. Perhaps she was in the Game after all.

**You know what? It's 6 am. Any grammar and spelling, and even missing word mistakes, is blamed on the fact that I can barely keep my head up. **

**I think this was a much better ending. Still not the the satisfactory level that I want, but much better than that-thing-that-came-before-this.**


End file.
